


A little bliss

by Alethia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-15
Updated: 2005-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of guy. He didn't have the luxury of being otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little bliss

**Author's Note:**

> For maygra’s [Pop Song Fic Challenge](http://maygra.livejournal.com/150241.html#cutid1). The song was “I've Got a Rock ‘N’ Roll Heart” by Eric Clapton. Song lyrics are included at the end, for those interested. Thanks to meko00 for giving this a read-through. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/166486.html).

He knew the moment she put on “Battery”, he’d fuck her before dawn. It was easy, really. A couple drinks, some reminiscing about when music was good, and then she was leading him back to the thankfully empty manager’s office.

Gwen was unconventionally attractive. Her looks were a slap in the face, all dramatic ‘look at me,’ dark red lips and pale skin, hiding something. And she was good at it.

Especially when he had her braced against her boss’ desk, was sliding into her almost too perfectly, her satisfied grunt ringing in his ears. Dean let his fingers pull on her streaked hair so he could bite at her neck, but carefully, nothing like the vampire who’d been tearing out people’s throats all over town.

Not that he’d be doing that anymore.

Dean grunted when her heel connected with a bruise on his back. And shit, how long had it been? Sam was out there, looking forlorn and—

And then her hand slipped and they both almost lost it, that perfect balance they’d had to work at to find, and that’s what happened when people bought cheap desks, but it wasn’t like Dean could complain.

Their quick laughter was fine, too, before they got back to it and once he was sure she could hold on, he let his hand play between their bodies, fingers slipping through slickness to tease her as he thrust. Dean dimly noted that “Never Say Die” came on.

He really, really liked this bar.

Gwen gasped and arched, tightening around him, coming on a grunt, and Dean finally let himself go, fully sinking into her heat, closing his eyes and coming and coming.

Disentangling themselves was easier than normal; he loved it when women knew what they wanted and dressed accordingly.

She quirked her lips at him, after he was done straightening his clothes, taking care of the condom.

“I gotta go. But thanks for the ride,” she said, voice gravelly, hair a _mess_ , and there was no _way_ anyone who saw her wouldn’t know _exactly_ what she’d been doing. Not that he much cared.

Dean made sure _he_ didn’t look too obvious and went to find Sam.

***

“Could you please stop eyeing Santa’s little helper?” Sam asked, annoyed.

“Oh, but how helpful she looks.” And hot, too, even with the Santa hat.

“Ugh, God, is it always about sex with you?”

Dean looked at him askance. “Of course. Weren’t you the one in college? Shouldn’t you have embraced this already?”

“I had other priorities.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Dean would have gone on, but Santa’s little helper was coming over to them and Dean flashed her a charming grin.

“Evening.”

She smiled, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. “What can I do for you?” she asked, smile turning sultry.

“Now _there’s_ a loaded question.”

Her eyes flicked up and down, obvious and not even slightly apologetic, before she tossed her head toward the back. “Your friend looks lonely. You should go keep him company.”

His friend—ah, Sam hadn’t stuck around, but had found them a table instead. Good man. “Eh, he’s fine. And he’s not my friend, he’s my brother.”

“Really? He’s cute.”

Dean looked back. He wouldn’t go so far as cute—more like half-mutinous—but whatever. He was so gonna need a peace offering.

“So what can I get for you?” she asked, serious this time.

Becky, according to her tag, smiled as she made their coffees, smirked when she caught his glance straying, and held his wrist when she handed over the drinks. “I’m off at ten.”

“I’ll be here.” He took the paper cups with a nod and made his way back to Sam, setting his down neatly in front of him. “I got that chick drink you like,” he said, spinning his chair around and straddling it.

Sam made a low sound of protest: “It’s not a chick drink.” But it was half-hearted at best and Dean could see his attention was elsewhere, back toward Becky, if he were any judge.

“She lookin’ at me? She’s lookin’ at me,” Dean said, confident. Sam just rolled his eyes.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t thrown her underwear at you.”

He snickered. “Wow, you and Jess must have had an interesting sex life,” Dean said, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, please go back to inappropriately ogling Santa’s little helper.”

“Becky,” he corrected, turning in his seat and winking at her. “Good tidings they bring,” he said suggestively, smirking and turning back to Sam.

“Is this where I make the requisite ho ho ho joke?” Sam asked, dry but seeming better, picking up his drink, anyway.

Dean snorted. Just had to ease his baby brother into it.

***

Akiko made him take his shoes off before he could go into her apartment. 

And then she pushed him down onto the floor, kissing him distractedly as she wiggled out of her clothes.

Her hair was silky in his hands and he lifted her onto his lap easily, marveling at how little she weighed. She didn’t seem that insubstantial in the spiked heels and little, swingy skirt. But that was girls for you.

She pushed his jacket off, pulling his shirt up and licking at his chest, other hand finding the button on his pants. God, she moved fast. Not that he was complaining.

Dean laughed into her mouth as he held himself up, found his wallet and extracted a condom. Then that was gone, too, and Dean groaned at her hands on him, not hesitant at all, and he let his mind go blank, didn’t even think about wraiths and cold as her heat sank onto him.

She was tighter than he was used to and he sucked in a breath, moaned when she contracted around him.

“Like that?” she asked, breathless, already moving up and down in something slow and addictive.

“Like you don’t know it.” He certainly liked the way her eyes glazed, the way her unbelievable skin flushed as she moved faster.

His hands drifted to her hips and he pulled her into him on her next stroke, feeling her tense, hearing her moan as her head tipped forward, dark hair falling into her face.

It was more of a blur after that, sweat and heat and slickness as he easily moved her where he wanted, as she twisted down onto him, fingernails pressing into the skin of his shoulders.

She kissed him as she came, muffling a moan into his mouth and shaking around him, slick heat seeming to coil into him and pull him out, coming like a shock, but still expected.

Her rapid breaths felt good against his chest and he stroked a finger down her back, making her shiver. She slid off him immediately and yeah, ugh, mess.

But. Sex. 

His head was still back in the fog when she reappeared, handing him a warm washcloth and favoring him with a lazy, sated kiss.

God, he loved a detail-oriented woman.

***

“Are you buying _condoms_? Here? Now?” Sam asked, sounding almost scandalized. So unless his relationship with Jess was _way_ more innocent than it looked…

“Yeah…” Dean answered in that way he knew would get to Sam, always did, just a little bit of arrogance thrown in, telling Sam he’d help him in his time of need, would be happy to shepherd him through it.

“But—what for?” Sam asked, finally settling on a question. That tone? Always worked on Sam. Not that Sammy seemed able to do anything about it.

So Dean snorted and eyed his baby bro, asking wouldn’t he like to know with his eyes _alone_. “Now, I know I don’t need to give you the talk, Sammy, since I clearly remember having to explain things after Dad so thoroughly confused you. You just _had_ to take everything literally,” Dean muttered as an afterthought, shaking his head. What a fucking mess that was.

“When are you—” Ooh, what did he want the _details_?

“You know those times I go out for food and, like, don’t come back for three hours? I’m not enjoying the scenery, man.”

“Dean…”

“Well, I suppose I am. In a way,” he mused to himself, watching the clerk smirk at him knowingly. Sam was so out of the guy loop he probably couldn’t even see the bend anymore. It was sad.

“But—” They were walking out and what? Sam was still on this?

“I’m having sex!” he cried, swinging the bag in annoyance. He distantly considered that it was probably a good thing it was night and there weren’t many people around. “I’m not sacrificing babies to the light of the full moon. Just sex. You should try it sometime.” Dean paused, thinking about that. “No, actually, you really should, dude.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just—”

“Need me to help? ‘Cause I’m sure I can set something up. Just, you know, you’re on your own for closing the deal. I mean, you’re my brother and all, but dude, there are limits.”

“Okay, just stop.” Sam said, looking pained. “I may never have sex again.”

“Well, you’re certainly well on your way down that road,” Dean said absently, getting out his keys.

“I hate you.”

Dean smirked. Sammy was so easy some days.

***

“She wanted to what?”

“I know? That’s so— _wrong_!”

Sam looked at him sidelong…which made Dean incredibly suspicious. “What?”

“Didn’t know there was anything you considered _wrong_ when it comes to the ladies,” he said dryly.

“Fucking in my car? Are you kidding me?”

Sam held up his hands, laughing at him now. “Whatever you say, man. You’re the one with the psychic bond. I was the one who always got stuffed in the back.”

“Yeah, well nobody’s _getting stuffed_ anywhere in the Impala,” Dean said, petulant.

Sam winced: “Did you really have to?” Dean smirked and tossed a wink at him. So predictable.

“Now, if we were talkin’ a 57 Chevy…then it’d be a different story.”

“So long as it’s someone _else’s_ car.” Dean got the distinct impression that Sam was mocking him. That wasn’t on.

“Hey, why don’t I hear any gratitude, huh? You ride in it, too. You think you’d be more supportive.”

“I was doing pretty well with suppressing that thought, actually. So thanks.”

“Any time.”

***

Megan was sweet and had these big blue eyes, you’d swear she was just an innocent.

Except for the fact that she was taking him home.

Her keys tossed onto a side table, she shrugged out of her coat almost hesitantly. “You want something to eat?” she asked, almost hopeful and yeah. Dean was starting to believe her murmurs about ‘not doing this kind of thing’ because she was really, really bad at it.

Neither of them were here for _food_.

“I’m good,” he said lowly, letting his own coat come off, easy and assured, putting it on a convenient couch and crossing over to her.

He pushed a blonde curl out of her face, settling the back of his hand warmly on her cheek. Probably best to go the gentle route; he didn’t want to scare her.

From her nervous breath, she was probably skittish enough as it was.

“You okay?” he asked, because even _he_ liked willing company and this girl’s—woman’s, he reminded himself—reticence was seeping into him, which he didn’t need. Not after werewolves and the cruel twisting of innocence that he’d had to witness.

“Fine. I’m fine,” she said, hands rubbing into her jeans and looking at him bravely.

“If you don’t want—” He hated himself for that, so he was grateful when she cut him off, lips on his like she had a mission and by God, she’d complete it.

He refused to allow himself to laugh, gentling the kiss into something she’d enjoy, a slow—so slow—melding of mouths, his tongue swiping oh-so-gently, asking a response.

And she—fell into it, into him, arms coming around and holding on as he backed her toward what he guessed was her bedroom. She sighed into his kiss, hands getting bolder as the continued, mapping out his chest and back, only reluctantly letting go to move it to the bed.

Not that he let her have much time to think about it, following her down and kissing her again and this was so—

Not what he was used to. Not when he was used to fast and semi-public and a rough ride that satisfied but barely scratched the surface. This was like—something he could imagine doing in high school, if he’d had a typical high school experience, making out with a beautiful, if slightly hesitant, girl.

But typical was overrated and Dean had never been that guy.

So he moved things along, getting his fingers up under her shirt and pulling, skimming it off with ease borne of extensive practice.

Megan didn’t protest, just wiggled against him, trying to get her jeans off and still maintain contact. He knew it wasn’t _supposed_ to be intentionally arousing, but it really, _really_ was.

Well—removing clothing, that he could get behind. His own shirt was tossed aside without thought, and he decided to leave the pants for a bit. Dean pulled her back to him, running light fingertips between her breasts, down to her stomach, still gentle.

And yeah, she hadn’t planned this, underwear mismatched and so very _innocent_ in its pale blue, pale pink. Everything here pastel and light and this wasn’t Dean’s world, wasn’t even close and—

He shut the thought down before he could go any further, kissing her hungrily, feeling her respond in the little shifts of her hips, the way her hand finally drifted down to rest on the button of his pants, not moving, but the intent clearly there.

Dean didn’t have to look away as he got rid of pants and boxers and shoes and socks—again, practice, and besides, she was twisting her arms back to get rid of the bra and it wasn’t like Dean was going to look away, something maybe expected according to her blush.

How the hell did he _get_ here?

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, finding her lips again and sliding fingers under the waistband of her panties. She deserved that much and it was true, after all. Not a pretty platitude he used to get into someone’s pants.

He was already _here_.

Dean pressed a hand onto her chest, holding her loosely as he kissed his way down her body, spreading her legs and going down on her, mouth licking just where it made her _writhe_ , Megan whispering his name as she gripped the comforter, tried to get some leverage to move, not that he’d let her.

No, not until she came, her cry feather-soft and unmistakable, her body shuddering so delicately. Dazed eyes looked back at him when he licked his way up, tongue flicking a nipple lazily. He hadn’t done _that_ in a while.

She cleared her throat, shook her head a little, sweat shining in the low light, and he smiled. There was always something about that that was deeply satisfying, and not even on a sexual level.

“Do you want me to?” she gestured, at him and hmm, to get a blowjob or not to get a blowjob, that was the question.

One look at Megan’s flushed cheeks, though, and he was—absurdly—shaking his head; he really needed to get out of here.

Dean pulled her to him, closer, letting her feel him and she breathed out sharply, closing her eyes. A vague hand gestured toward the dresser: “I have a—”

He got her meaning and stretched, condom conveniently placed—and in an unopened box. Of course.

Want rushing through him, he moved faster, practiced hand rolling the condom on, fingers playing inside her, just to make sure, her bucking hips nothing but invitation, and then Dean was sliding inside her. And this was the _best_ , the first stroke in, watching a woman’s eyes go wide and flutter shut, feeling her legs come around him, adjusting to his presence and moaning when he started thrusting into her in earnest.

Dean just couldn’t make it anything less than a tender, gentle thing—mouth tangling with hers, swallowing her gasps and responding to them, adjusting to what she liked. It would have been so easy to make it—something _else_ , less immediate, less personal, maybe, and she would have let him.

But. The thought didn’t appeal and he shut that thought out, focusing instead on how she was starting to tighten around him, a new desperation in her tone. He let his fingers stroke over her, just the lightest of touches, and then her head was thrown back and she made that weak sound again, muscles gone tight.

He always let them come first—he was a gentleman, after all. But the payoff was in how tight they got, how fucking fantastic it felt, her body clinging around him. 

It was just a bonus that meant she didn’t see him come. He didn’t like being watched.

Dean grunted and thrust haphazardly a few more times, coming himself with a low grunt, heat rushing out of him in a few breathless, ringing moments.

He was careful not to fall on top of her, easing to the side, distantly seeing that she still had her eyes closed, was spread totally boneless across her bed, completely relaxed for maybe the first time tonight.

“Wow,” she mumbled, almost to herself, and Dean laughed lowly as he chucked the condom.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. Her arms went around him, so easy, and she languidly responded to him.

“As it was meant to be.”

Dean leaned to the side, absently stroking her skin, and wondered how to phrase it.

“You hungry now?” she joked, weakly, like she knew how this played out and Dean had the uncomfortable feeling of someone caught kicking puppies.

“I should go,” he said gently.

“You could stay.” It was a half-hearted suggestion at best.

And he _could_ , but what would that accomplish, in the end?

He had an easy response, something to get him out of this, but the look in her eyes stopped him and he just smiled instead, kissing her briefly, rolling off the bed and grabbing his clothes.

She sighed behind him and he could hear the slide of the comforter as she stood.

There was just something about that look on a woman that got to him A well-fucked woman was a joy to behold, especially when _he’d_ done it, and he took a moment to commit it to memory, the way she stood there wrapped in her comforter, curls just decimated and make-up smeared in the best way possible.

Apparently she was intent on seeing this through, so he put his arm around her and walked her to her door, which was kind of a weird reversal of how things normally went. But whatever.

“Oh, wait one sec,” she said, grabbing something from a desk—and writing on it.

He frowned.

She handed him the slip of paper and Dean didn’t have to look to know what it was. He smiled, gently again, and kissed her forehead.

“So, I guess I’ll see you,” she said, just, _so awkwardly_.

Dean didn’t answer, leaning into her a bit and opened the door. He didn’t look back.

Her number went in the first trashcan he saw. Dean didn’t have the luxury and anyway, this wasn’t the life for him.

He had a mission.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.

**Author's Note:**

> “I've Got a Rock ‘N’ Roll Heart” by Eric Clapton:  
>  _I've got a feeling we could be serious, girl;_  
>  Right at this moment, I could promise you the world.  
> Before we go crazy, before we explode,  
> There's something 'bout me, baby, you got to know, you got to know.
> 
> _I get off on 57 Chevys;_  
>  I get off on screaming guitar.  
> Like the way it hits me every time it hits me.  
> I've got a rock and roll, I've got a rock and roll heart. 
> 
> _Feels like we're falling into the arms of the night,_  
>  So if you're not ready, don't be holdin' me so tight.  
> I guess there's nothing left for me to explain;  
> Here's what you're gettin' and I don't want to change, I don't want to change. 
> 
> _Chorus_
> 
> _I don't need to glitter, no Hollywood,  
>  All you got to do is lay it down and you lay it down good._
> 
> _Chorus_


End file.
